


Derek doesn't do "Happy"

by thisstarvingartist



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And super short, At least I do, But you love it, Derek doesn't do "happy", Fluff, Fluffity-fluff, M/M, Stiles is a cuddler, This fic is super fluffy guys, Who knows what happened last night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstarvingartist/pseuds/thisstarvingartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't do 'happy'. He doesn't do happy because every time he does, someone gets hurt.</p>
<p>So when he wakes up in bed with Stiles Stilinski, he panics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek doesn't do "Happy"

**Author's Note:**

> Like my other fic, the beginning of this one is kind of old, I just fished it out of the bowels of my Teen Wolf folder and decided to clean it up a little bit. It's nothing but fluffy ridiculousness, and I hope it takes all your feels and snuggles them until you just don't know what to do with your life any more. That's what fluffy fanfics do to me.
> 
> I also didn't come up with the RePeter thing. I saw that in another fic. I don't remember where, sadly, so that little spark of genius will go anonymously into the night, but anywho. Enjoy.

Derek doesn’t do ‘happy’. He doesn’t do ‘happy’ because every time he feels it something--or some _one_ \--comes along and ruins it, destroys it, crushes everything that ever makes him feel good. Someone always gets hurt. So he avoids it, even when he isn’t trying, he distances himself from people and things that make him feel even the slightest spark of happiness. He doesn’t do it to punish himself (although he did do that for a long time, after Kate) but to protect those that dare offer him the slightest ray of hope and care that will be their downfall.

So when Derek wakes up tangled in the soft sheets and gangly arms of Stiles Stilinski, he panics.

Unfortunately Derek can find no easily accessible escape route; both of Stiles’ legs are wrapped around his and his arms are wound up around Derek’s torso in a way that probably should be impossible, but of course, Stiles has managed it. The teen looks delicate with his eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open and a tiny dribble of drool leaking down the corner of his lip. Derek forces himself to resist the desire to lean down and lick the droll off of Stiles’ cheek, because that would be _wrong_. Stiles isn’t _his_ , he’s human, and they’re barely friends much less…

Stiles exhales into Derek’s face, and Derek recoils against it even though it smells like warmth and chocolate and all the good things Derek _knows_ that morning breath should never smell like. Stiles blinks his eyes open, certainly at least half awake, but instead of attempting to escape Derek’s grip he curls more inside it, burying his nose into the junction between Derek’s shoulder and his neck, and sighs with a content that shouldn’t make Derek feel so giddy inside.

“Good morning,” Stiles whispers, his voice soft with sleep, and Derek resists the strongest urge to strengthen his hold on the boy, hold him and never release. Because again, Stiles _isn’t_ _his_ and he _can’t_ treat him like Stiles was anything but the ridiculous (albeit hilarious and charming) best friend of a werewolf that refuses to associate with Derek’s pack whatsoever. Which makes him wonder; why had he even been at Stiles’ house in the first place?

“Aren’t you going to say good morning back?” Stiles asks sleepily, wriggling a little bit away to look up with his warm amber eyes at Derek, who stares back down at him with a look as cold and not terrified as he can manage.

“Why did I come here?” Derek asks him. Stiles frowns. Stiles’ face does not look good with a frown. It looks downright horrible, in fact, and Derek regrets asking the question immediately. Stiles moves one arm from Derek’s waist and rubs his face, trying to get off the excess drool.

“You came to ask for help with research on the ‘Witches of Gorvenneth’, or something like that,” Stiles tells him, “I was pissed at Scott for telling me not to talk to you. I mean jeez, I know you two aren’t friends or anything but I can take care of myself.”

“He’s just trying to be a good Alpha,” Derek says, “Even though he really isn’t an Alpha at all, just so that’s clear. He’s really just a clueless teenager that shouldn’t have even gotten the bite.”

“Yeah, well Peter wasn’t exactly the perfect Alpha,” Stiles says. Derek can’t ignore the slight elevation in his heart rate as he says the former Alpha’s name. “And now he’s, like, back from the dead, or something?”

Derek finds himself wanting to comfort Stiles. He also knows that Stiles has an outrageous sense of humor. He isn’t the best at jokes, but… “From now on, when you see him, call him RePeter. It drives him nuts.”

Then Stiles laughs. Stiles laughs, and Derek’s whole world comes crashing down around him, because _damn it_ he is supposed to fall in love with a werewolf that will make a decent den mother and bear children, neither of which Stiles will ever do,  regardless of whether or not it is physically _possible_ , which it is not.

“I should go,” Derek says, and makes a move to stand, but Stiles’ arms are tight around him and although he can easily break the teen’s grip, he can’t help but stop and look down at Stiles’ unhappy expression.

“No way in hell,” He says simply, and Derek is so surprised that he allows Stiles to pull him back down into bed and nuzzle himself as up close and personal to Derek as the third dimension will allow.

“Snuggle me.” Stiles demands.

“…Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Derek asks. Stiles moves just enough to shoot a glare at him, then buries his head into Derek’s chest again. Stiles’ hair brushes his chin softly and he gets butterflies.

“I’m snuggling. You’re just laying here like a limp--warm, but still limp--rag doll and just, no. You instigated the cuddling last night and dammit you will follow through, sir.” Stiles finishes his short monologue just as Derek relents and drapes his arms back over Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles hums in appreciation and before Derek can react, presses a quick and gentle kiss onto his cheek before burrowing back into Derek’s neck.

“Excuse you,” Derek snorts, but he smiles despite himself, and _no!_ He sits up, practically shoving Stiles away.

“Hey!” Stiles protests. “What are you--?”

“I can’t do this,” Derek says, coming off far more weak and shrill than he intends. “I can’t… I just…”

“We already did this last night, Sourwolf,” Stiles sighs, and reaches out for one of Derek’s hands. “We both agreed not to do anything weird, right? All I’m asking is that you give me some cuddle-time, nothing major. You aren’t a ‘find a mate and settle down’ kind of werewolf and I get that, now would you please just--”

“No, I _am_ that kind of werewolf,” Derek says immediately, wanting to slap himself right afterward. “But the last time I tried… everything went wrong.” He sighs. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to Stiles, of all people. But Stiles is giving him a knowing look, and Derek just can’t anymore. He sits down on the side of the bed. Stiles takes his hands.

“I’d never hurt you, Der-bear,” Stiles whispers with a smile. Derek tries not to match it, and fails.

“I know that, it’s just… hard. To trust someone with my happiness. I just…”

“I make you happy?” Stiles says quietly. Derek looks up at him. The look on his face is like one no one’s ever given him before. It’s on the verge of scared, a little hopeful, and to Derek’s surprise full of unbridled affection… maybe even love.

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life,” Derek says honestly, and he feels more naked than he ever has, like he just put his life on the line and in the hands of a single teenage boy who can’t possibly feel the same way, and he’s probably overloading Stiles and scaring him away and…

…and Stiles puts his arms on Derek’s shoulders, guides him gently back down on the bed, plants a soft, loving kiss on his lips, and wraps his arms around Derek again.

“Ditto, dude,” Stiles says, and Derek can laugh because he knows that later he’ll have to sit through an over-the-top romantic monologue about exactly how Stiles feels about him, which he can already hear in perfect clarity by the way Stiles’ heart is racing. “Now may we commence with the snuggling?”

Derek pulls Stiles into a tight werewolf cuddle-attack, and he lets himself smile, because maybe if Stiles helps him, he can remember how to be happy again.


End file.
